


Everything Under Control

by Laylah



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Blow Job, Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll try to be careful, sir," Adachi says. Calm. Patient. Talking to a drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Under Control

"There you go, sir," Adachi says, sinking to his knees and helping Dojima down onto the futon. It's embarrassing, having to be put to bed like a goddamn kid himself.

"You're not a bad kid," Dojima says, because it suddenly seems really important for him to know. He squints at Adachi in the dim light, trying to focus.

Adachi ducks his head. "Thank you, sir," he says.

"Useless," Dojima goes on, and that's not fair, is it? "But not bad."

"You really mean that?" Adachi says, with that godawful smile that looks like he's cringing at the same time.

Dojima sighs heavily. "No," he says. "Drunk, don't mean anything." He tugs at his tie, but he doesn't get anywhere with it, and after a minute Adachi reaches up to try to help. His hands are warm and gentle when they push Dojima's out of the way.

"Well, I won't hold you to it in the morning, then," Adachi says. He still sounds lighthearted about it. Nothing really gets the kid down for long. Like tonight. Dojima would swear they were both drinking hard -- weren't they? He can't remember how things went at the bar nearly as well as he'd like to, but he's pretty sure Adachi was the one who kept calling for more sake -- but Adachi's the one with the steady hands, the one who's still calm.

"No, you're too nice for that," Dojima says. He puts his hands down and Adachi manages to get his tie undone with only a little fumbling.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Adachi says. He starts on the buttons of Dojima's shirt.

Dojima puts a hand on his shoulder. Adachi feels more solid than he looks.. "Too nice for a cop," he says. "Get yourself in trouble that way. People take advantage of you."

"I'll try to be careful, sir," Adachi says. Calm. Patient. Talking to a drunk.

"Do that," Dojima tells him, nodding. Adachi tugs Dojima's shirt untucked so he can get at the last button, and leans forward to push it off. They're way too close to each other. Adachi's skin smells a little like smoke from the bar.

Dojima's pretty sure he doesn't mean to move, pretty sure that when he _does_ move it's supposed to just be an object lesson. He reaches under Adachi's jacket, rests his hand against Adachi's side in the space between his shoulder holster and his belt. "What'd I just tell you?" he asks.

"To be careful," Adachi says slowly, like he's confused. "I always pay attention when you tell me things, sir."

"Then why aren't you doing it?" Dojima asks. Adachi's eyes are wide in the dim light, and he's so close -- this was supposed to just illustrate a point, wasn't it? -- so close and getting closer -- close enough to -- their mouths crash together and it's sloppy, awkward, sour from the alcohol and Dojima doesn't want to think about how long it's been since he kissed anyone at all.

Everything comes into super sharp focus, the way it does in the heat of a chase: the pounding of his heart, the way Adachi's fingers tighten in his undershirt and catch his skin uncomfortably, the creaking of footsteps on the stairs outside his room. He hopes that's Souji putting Nanako to bed, wouldn't want her to hear it when his teeth scrape Adachi's lip and the kid whimpers a little.

Dojima pulls back, almost under control again, just for a second. "There, y'see?" he demands. "Get yourself in trouble if you don't --"

Adachi kisses him again. This is a dumb idea but it feels good, and when Adachi pushes Dojima's shirt off his shoulders, he still doesn't call it off.

Instead he lets go to fight the shirt off the rest of the way, before his sense of decency catches up to his hands and he figures he really should try to stop this at least one more time. "You're not careful you'll wind up --"

"Don't worry about me, sir," Adachi says. He's unbuckling Dojima's belt, still smiling that damned puppy smile. "You're one of the good guys. You wouldn't hurt me." He gets Dojima's pants unzipped and tugs on them. "Stand up, sir," he says. "You don't want to sleep in these on a hot night like this, do you?"

Dojima has to hold onto Adachi's shoulder to haul himself back up off the futon. "Probably not," he says. The room spins slowly around him. "Why you gotta be so goddamn sensible when I'm drunk?" -- Which isn't the question he means, probably, but it's the best order he can put the words in right now, so it'll have to do.

"It's the only time I really need to pick up your slack, isn't it?" Adachi says, pulling Dojima's pants down. "Most of the time you've got everything under control by yourself."

Dojim snorts. "If that were true," he says, "they wouldn't have sent in that damn kid Shirogane."

Adachi steadies him with both hands on his thighs. "Hey, now, don't get started on him again." He leans in much too close, presses his cheek against the fabric of Dojima's boxers. "What's it going to take to get you to stop thinking about him?" His breath is hot through the thin cloth.

"Goddamnit, Adachi," Dojima says. His hand tightens on Adachi's shoulder -- too tight, must be, because Adachi sucks in a breath sharply.

"Maybe you should sit back down," he says. "Feels like you're not totally steady on your feet yet."

"Of course I'm not," Dojima says, as Adachi pushes him back down onto the futon. "I'm drunk." He frowns at Adachi. "Too drunk."

"You're fine," Adachi says. His hands slide up Dojima's thighs and inward, warm, totally steady. "You feel pretty good right now, right?"

"You don't have to do this," Dojima says. He's pretty sure it's the last of his resistance. Adachi's hand cups his cock and he swallows a groan. It's been years since he let anyone --

"Yeah, but do I have to stop?" Adachi asks. He's already unbuttoning the fly of Dojima's boxers, like he's pretty sure what answer he's going to get. Maybe he can look at evidence and draw conclusions after all.

When Dojima tries and fails to find the willpower to give Adachi the only ethical answer -- yes, you have to stop -- Adachi grins at him. "That's what I thought," he says. "Just let me take care of you, sir."

He doesn't need to be taken care of, Dojima ought to say. He's not some horny kid who thinks he'll die if he doesn't get -- Adachi leans down and buries his face in Dojima's lap, and the wet, soft heat of his mouth wrecks Dojima's train of thought. Dumb kid gives head the same way he does police work -- sloppy but enthusiastic, like he's happy to be doing it even when he doesn't have the skills to back himself up.

Dojima threads his fingers into Adachi's hair without really meaning to, not to jerk him around or anything, just...holding him there, because the inside of his mouth is so slick and so warm. Adachi makes a tiny sound in his throat that Dojima would swear he can feel, and then chokes when he goes too deep.

"Hey," Dojima says, and takes his hand off Adachi's head. "You don't -- you don't have to --"

Adachi gropes for his hand and holds onto it, tight, but doesn't come up for air, and Dojima's more grateful for that than he wants to be. The kid shouldn't have to -- shouldn't feel like he has anything to prove here. They shouldn't be doing this at all. But the room spins whenever Dojima closes his eyes, and he can feel the beat of his blood all the way to his fingertips, and Adachi's lips and tongue slide easily along the length of his cock. Sloppy as the kid seems, he hasn't slipped up with his teeth once -- he's better at it than he lets on -- and it's been too long and Dojima's wound too tight, can feel the pressure building at the base of his cock, the little shudders as he's drawing close -- he squeezes Adachi's fingers in warning, doesn't dare make noise, and then he's coming so hard it makes him dizzy. Adachi chokes, swallows, coughs and swallows again.

"Damnit," Dojima says, "Adachi --"

He gets one hand under the kid's arm, tries to pull him up. Adachi looks up at him with those damn hopeful puppy eyes. "I do okay?"

That hits like a sucker punch, and Dojima flinches. It's the kind of question you ask after your first time. "It felt great," he says numbly. "But you didn't have to --"

"I wanted to," Adachi says. "Sir." He smiles, sitting up straighter. "So feel better, okay? Don't worry so much." He stands up, only a little unsteady.

Dojima frowns. "Where do you think you're going?"

Adachi shrugs. "I should get going before Souji starts to wonder what we're up to, right? He's a bright kid." He leans down and kisses the corner of Dojima's mouth, fast, like he's afraid he won't be welcome. "I can let myself out."

"You don't -- good night, Adachi," Dojima says. He knows enough to concede for now, doesn't he? "I'll see you in the morning."

He flops down on his futon as Adachi leaves. The room lurches, and he takes a few slow breaths, waiting for it to settle. The front door rattles open and closed.

Stupid kid. This is only going to make things more complicated.


End file.
